


Greek Summer Nights

by LondonGypsy



Series: Greek Summer Nights [1]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: Benedict is shameless, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Greek Bed Hair, Sexy Times, one-night-stand, really tight trousers, smoking!kink, sort of, voice!kink, which are very distracting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 22:53:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonGypsy/pseuds/LondonGypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tousled, tanned and very sexy Benedict in Greece.<br/>Isis, writing for a newpaper, at a Sherlock promotion.<br/>And what happens when they cross paths.<br/>(I have mention that I totally suck at summaries, yes? Well, I totally do. Just read it, 'kay?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greek Summer Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all remember these pics from back in summer when B was in Greece, promoting Sherlock there? You also remember his bed hair, the tight trousers and the smoking?  
> http://31.media.tumblr.com/0844f4adcea029073eea65c316789c40/tumblr_mowpglDZBj1qkt4n6o7_1280.jpg  
> http://31.media.tumblr.com/2d9b2fc0cedda4209ee244c432cfbef1/tumblr_mowpglDZBj1qkt4n6o4_1280.jpg  
> Weeeeell, that was pretty inspiring so I sat down and wrote a thing.  
> Here is the thing!
> 
> And that thing just expanded; it's a tad longer than I expected but yeah... 
> 
> As always huge thanks to my beloved SuperWhoLockGypsy for the beta!!

He takes a long drag and his eyes close in bliss as he inhales deeply. 

White smoke curls around his face, making him look quite ethereal and otherworldly. 

He's hiding in a less-occupied corner of the place, enjoying what looks like his first cigarette today. 

He won't be able to hide for long though; he's the star today. 

But for now, for five blessed minutes, he is alone. 

Casually leaning against one of the pillars, the cup with his drink is dangling loosely in one hand, while the other is holding the cigarette. 

Hypnotized I watch as he lifts his hand, those beautiful, big yet elegant hands, and takes another drag, his sensual lips closing gently around the filter. 

Christ, it shouldn’t be that sexy but apparently it's in his CV to make even something unhealthy and potentially dangerous look like pure sin. 

Those multi-coloured eyes are still closed, so I don’t feel too worried about watching him from where I stand. 

But then his lids flutter open, an unhurried, lazy movement. 

And he sees me. Sees me watching him. 

I blush furiously but before I can look away, ashamed at being caught staring at him like this, he quirks a grin at me. 

Locking eyes with me, he lifts his hand again and takes another drag of his cigarette. 

I see him inhaling the smoke and I almost feel the rush of nicotine through my veins, feel it fill my lungs and heighten my senses. 

Heat is coiling in my body, my heart is hammering in my chest and my face is burning. 

I can't take my eyes off of him. 

He lets the smoke escape, slowly and controlled, his gorgeous mouth forming a perfect little 'O'. 

I swallow hard at the sight and have to lean against a tree because my knees are getting wobbly and weak. 

He raises an eyebrow at me; a suggestive smile is playing over his lips as he drops the stub.

But as he takes a step towards me, somebody is calling his name from behind him. 

The smile turns apologetic, he shrugs and looks over his shoulder. 

I realize I have been holding my breath the entire time, so I gasp for some much needed air. 

My knees want to give out and I stumble towards a nearby chair. 

But before I can recover from this - Jesus, I don’t even know what _this_ was - he turns around again. His eyes are scanning the place and they light up as they find me again. 

Shock roots me to the chair as I watch him sprint over, his long legs bringing him in mere seconds to where I sit. 

“Hi,” he breathes, sweeping that bloody errant curl out of his eye. 

“Hello,” I stutter, staring up at him, mesmerized to see him that close. 

“Fancy a drink? Later, I mean? When this is over?” 

“Uh...sure, why not?” I say, trying to remember how to think properly. 

“Splendid,” he grins and then he looks around as if to make sure nobody can hear him. 

“My room number is 197. Meet you there...” he glances at his watch, “around eight? Should be done with this by then...” 

Speechless I just nod, unable to do much else. 

“See you later then,” he beams and off he goes, leaving me breathless and stunned. 

I keep staring after him as he dashes off to the press junket we are all here for, before I carefully stand up and follow him. 

 *

15 minutes later, I am sitting amongst 150 people, in front of the little stage the Greek TV station has set up, waiting. 

Applause fills the warm summer air as Sue Vertue enters the stage, getting introduced by the TV people, but my entire focus is on Benedict. He looks relaxed, smiles left and right, giving a little wave to some enthusiastic fans yelling his name. 

He takes the seat they have set up for him, visibly amused as he sees his name on it. 

Everybody has questions and he and Sue answer them patiently but for me everything is a bit of a blur. 

All I can do is stare at him. 

His hair is curling wildly around his head, even though he obviously tried to tame it. His cheeks are rosy and almost glowing in the low light of the setting sun; the pinkish shirt he's wearing only enhances that. He looks fantastic and very relaxed despite the fact that the press and the fans are bombarding him with questions he probably has answered a million times already. 

But the most enthralling – and most distracting – thing are his grey trousers: they are tight, so very tight. They cling to his legs like a second skin, and when I concentrate very hard I can _see_ his muscles flexing against the thin fabric. My fingers are itching with the urge to run them over his thighs and dig my nails into the firm flesh. 

I get lost in my daydreams and only the shuffling around me pulls me back into reality. 

It's over, everybody is leaving, the stage is already empty and slowly I follow the crowd outside while checking my watch.

Still over an hour until eight. 

My stomach flips as I think of what awaits me but for now I try to stay calm – not an easy task. 

A drink, that's what I need, so I walk inside the little hotel. 

The bar is small but well stocked and I order a strong whisky to calm the fluttering nerves. 

It's still pretty warm and so I decide that waiting outside is better than staying indoors. 

I find a nice spot on the hotel's terrace with view on a little lake, and relaxing back into my seat, I take a sip of my drink. 

The smell of burning tobacco catches my attention and I let my eyes roam over the place. 

My heart stutters a little as I discover the tall figure standing in the shadows, again mostly hidden from sight. 

“Lurking in the shadows again?” I murmur loudly enough for him to hear it.

I hear a rumbling laugh which promptly chases a shiver down my spine. 

“Don't like being caught too often... smoking's bad for the image.” 

“Why are you doing it then?” I ask curiously, narrowing my eyes to see him better. 

A little smoke cloud emerges from the shadows, followed by another soft laugh. 

“Addiction, I suppose. I do know it's bad for me and yet I can't bring myself to quit.” 

Stepping out of the half-light, he smiles at me and slips into the empty seat next to me. 

He's got rid of the jacket, the sleeves of the pink shirt are rolled up and reveal sun-kissed skin. He permeates that ease and calmness of somebody on holiday – not only here for work then. 

“But it's good, you know” he says, “like all bad habits. They have something...wicked to them.” 

The smile fades and is replaced by a look that can only be called predatory. 

His eyes narrow and his gaze slowly slides over me and the glint in his eyes has something dangerous to it. 

“Like you,” he growls lowly, leaning a bit closer. 

I swallow hard. 

“Like me?” I ask perplexed. 

He nods and reaches for my drink. His long, elegant fingers close gently around the cool glass, whirling its content carefully around. 

“Yeah, you know...like forbidden fruit...” 

He raises the glass to take a drink. 

Again I am hypnotized by his movements. What is it that makes everything he does, how little and dismissive it might be, look like poetry? Like a ballet of tendons and muscles, controlled yet fluid; it is mezmerizing to watch him. 

He captures my eyes as he lays his lips on exactly the same spot I have drank from. 

I watch his throat work as he swallows, watch his lids flutter closed, hear him sigh blissfully as he lowers the glass again.

“Hmmm,” he all but purrs, “just what I needed.” 

He sets the glass down but his hand is still on it, his fingertips gently gliding up and down the misted surface. 

I shiver at that sight. It may have been innocent, but the way his fingertips circle over the rim has something very sexual to it. 

The air between us feels charged, almost electric – one spark and everything explodes. 

He's studying me thoroughly for a moment. 

“I'm Benedict,” he then says solemnly and I have to fight back the sudden urge to laugh out loud. 

“I know,” I reply, trying to keep the giggle out of my voice. 

He keeps looking at me, expectantly now, with those cat-like eyes, making me squirm with their intensity. 

“And you are?” he prompts after a few seconds of silence. 

“Oh God, I am sorry. I'm Isis.” 

He lets go of the glass and reaches out; first I think he wants to shake my hand. 

He doesn’t. 

Instead he slowly, so very slowly slides his fingers over my arm, which is laying on the table between us. 

His fingertips are cool from the glass he had been holding, and a little moist, but his touch feels as if it is burning against my skin. 

Goosebumps appear instantly, and he chuckles darkly as he starts to trace random pattern over my arm. 

“Hello Isis, it's very nice to meet you.” 

I can’t move, can’t breathe, all I feel are his fingers, setting every single nerve in my body on fire. 

“I still have one more thing I need to be at,” he murmurs as he cocks his head, letting his gaze roam hungrily over my body. 

“I think we can skip the drink, don't you think? You still remember my room number?” 

My mouth is dry and my tongue feels heavy; all I can do is nod weakly. 

He fumbles in his trouser pockets and discreetly slides a key card over the table. 

“Good. I'll meet you there. Get comfortable...” 

Picking up my hand, he lifts it and presses a warm, lingering kiss on it. 

“Laters,” he smiles, but his eyes are dark and I shiver in anticipation at the things I can read in them.

He stands up, straightens his shirt and then he is gone, leaving me once again speechless. 

_This is a dream, I am dreaming._

The simple white keycard still laying in the table, reflecting the sun, tells otherwise. 

_Oh God._

 *

Five minutes to eight I slide the card into the door and with a click it opens. 

Hesitantly I enter the room, close the door behind me and then I have to lean against it and just breathe. 

I am in Benedict's room. 

_Jesus Fucking Christ._

This is really happening. 

Nervously I step further into the room to have a look around. 

It's simple but elegant. Big windows give the room an airy feeling as the curtains are fluttering gently in the breeze. The huge king-size bed is dominating the room and I desperately try to ignore it – I can feel myself blush just looking at it. 

On a small table by the door to the little balcony sits a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice. 

As I have a closer look, I see that there is also a bottle of whisky in it and I grin. 

Guess he figured I’m not a champagne girl after all. 

I take the whisky and pour myself a glass. 

Just as I take a drink, there's a knock on the door and I freeze. 

It takes me a moment to remember that he doesn't have a key and on suddenly-wobbly knees I stumble over to open the door. 

The sight steals the air out of my lungs: Benedict is leaning casually against the door frame, his head tilted to the side and he's looking at me from under his fringe, his eyes twinkling mischievously. 

“Room service, ma'am,” he drawls and smirks at me, trying to sound Greek. 

I can't help it and laugh at his silliness. 

The next thing I know I am up against the wall, my wrists pinned over my head by his huge hands. His entire body is pressed against mine, all strong muscles and heated skin, taut and stretched against my own sensitive flesh. 

“Laugh like that again and I can't guarantee that I won't fuck you right here against this bloody wall...” he growls in my ear. 

He smells of sun and sex and it's so fucking intoxicating, I wanna bathe in his scent. 

“Christ,” I moan, arching involuntarily against him. 

The vibrations of the chuckle he lets out feel like electric shocks. 

“Nah, the name's Benedict, and I intend on making you scream it before the night's over,” he murmurs, pushing his thigh between my legs. 

I have admired those thighs all afternoon and having them rub tantalizingly slow against the throbbing need between my legs is driving me mad. 

Canting my hips, I start to shamelessly ride his thigh, groaning lowly at the incredible feeling. 

“A bit enthusiastic, are we?” 

His voice has dropped at least two octaves, rumbling like thunder through his chest and I shiver with a sudden and very raw desire. 

_God, that voice..._

He pulls back, having me whine at the loss. 

“Yes?” he asks gruffly, and it's then that I realize that I've said it out loud. 

I am blushing and mutter something unintelligible. 

“What was that?” 

He leans even closer, his knee sliding over the inside of my thigh, teasing me. 

“You have no idea what your voice is doing to me, do you?” I say, moaning loudly as he starts circling his hips only inches away from me.

“That so?” he whispers huskily, his breath ghosting over my lips. 

Fuck, I can almost taste his words and I whimper helplessly. 

An evil-looking smile tugs at his lips as he leans impossibly closer, his hair brushing over my face as he murmurs in my ear: 

“Patience, love.” 

He lets go of my wrists and I slump against the wall, trying to control my erratic breathing. 

Taking a step back, his darkened eyes rake over my body - it feels like a psychical touch and I shudder. 

“I've seen you watching me, you know,” he says conversationally, not the least bothered by the prominent bulge in those bloody tight trousers. 

“Have seen how you looked at me... how you undressed me with your eyes...do you have any idea how hard that was?” 

He chuckles again, letting one hand fall to his groin and gently squeezes his cock through the fabric. 

“Literally...been half-hard ever since...” 

His voice is getting even lower, and judging by the knowing look on his face, he's doing that on purpose now. 

I swallow, not able to take my eyes off of his hand on himself – it is probably the sexiest thing I have seen in a while. 

He's not the least bit self conscious, it seems the most natural thing to him, and it turns me on like nothing else. 

“Been trying to distract myself, you know, but every time I caught you looking at me. Well, let's say it didn’t work...had to excuse myself for a second after the press thing was over...” 

He lets the last few words hang in the air, full of unspoken intentions, making my imagination run wild. 

A groan escapes me as my mind fills with images of Benedict, bringing himself off in some spare minutes alone. 

My head falls back and my eyes close. 

“Oh, you're a filthy girl.” 

Before I can react, I hear a low growl, feel him rush close, and then he is kissing me. 

His mouth is warm and unforgiving in a kiss that's feverish in its passion and has us both moaning with pleasure. His tongue pushes past my welcoming lips, and the things he does to mine has my mind go utterly blank. I hang onto him, bury my hands in his dark curls, pushing myself as close as possible. 

He groans loudly in return, his arms close around my midst, pressing me hard against his body. 

I feel him making shallow little thrusts, rubbing his trapped erection against me. 

“Care to take this to bed? I didn’t wait all that time to come in my pants like a schoolboy,” he pants between heated kissed. 

“You're a very naughty boy.” 

“Let me show you how naughty...” he mumbles, kissing me one last time before grabbing my hand and dragging me fully into the room. 

He lets go and sits on the end of the bed, his gaze hungrily running over my body again before he locks eyes with me. 

“Strip for me,” he says, and only the softness around his eyes assures me that I am allowed to decline. As needy as he is, he doesn’t want to overwhelm me or make me do anything I don’t want to. And it is exactly that gentleness, the knowledge that he _does_ appreciate me, my body, that makes me want to please him, want to do what he asks for. 

“Only if you do the same,” I say quietly, my eyes never leaving his. 

“Deal.” 

He stands up and kicks off his shoes, making quick progress of his pink socks as well. 

I do the same, toeing off my high heels, and he raises an amused eyebrow as I sink down on my feet, much shorter than he now. 

A little unsure I fiddle with the first button on my summer dress, suddenly feeling shy. 

Benedict makes a soft guttural sound of disapproval. 

“Here...” he says, drawing my attention to his hands, as he lets his long fingers slide over the buttons on his shirt. Slowly he's popping them open, one after one, revealing ivory skin as he goes. 

Shrugging it off carelessly, he runs one hand over his torso, his lids fluttering a little and I bite my lip at the sight – he's the most sensual creature I have ever seen. 

Not wanting to stand back, I make quick work of my dress. It falls to the floor, leaving me only in bra and panties. 

Benedict makes a quiet whistling sound. 

“Gorgeous,” he mumbles and I blush.

Since he has still more clothes on his perfect body than I, I wait. He grins knowingly and slowly, so very slowly, opens the button on his trousers. 

“They are dangerous,” I choke out breathlessly. 

“These?” he asks as he plays with the zip, watching me squirm. 

“Uhm... yes... they're bloody tight…and…well...show a lot...” 

He laughs throatily and I can't control the full-body shudder at the sound. 

“They are, yes and they're getting too bloody tight right the fuck now,” he growls and with a swift motion he pushes them down. 

He didn’t bother with pants, apparently, and for a moment all I can do is stare at him, not knowing where to look first. 

Miles of silky, pale skin to taste and kiss, exquisitely toned muscles, made for my hands to explore, caress and mark – God, he is beautiful. 

He stands still and lets me watch. But soon he gets impatient and to draw my attention back, he starts to run one hand slowly over his belly, his hip, his upper leg. 

“You are still wearing too many clothes,” he reminds me gently. 

He is breathing heavily and his neck and chest are flushed while his fingers are creeping closer towards his hard cock. 

As I tear my gaze away from his hand, he raises a playful eyebrow at me. 

“Or do you need some help?” 

I shake my head and reach for my bra. I flick it open but put one hand on it to keep it in place before I remove one strap. 

Benedict's eyes are now glued to _my_ hand as I move to the other side and slide the second strap off my shoulder. 

He licks his lips and follows my every move as I carefully take my hand away and the bra falls to the floor. 

His undivided attention on me makes me feel bolder and I cup my breasts with both hands, making him gasp. 

Smiling a bit, I close my eyes and start to caress myself, rubbing my palms over my achingly hard nipples, moaning at the touch. 

Slowly I lower my hands, pushing my fingers into the waistband of my panties, feeling the heat radiating from between my legs. 

I feel Benedict's eyes on me, can hear his elaborate pants and I don’t have to look to know that he's stroking himself now. 

Pushing my panties all the way down, I carefully step out of them, eventually opening my eyes again. 

“God, that is fucking hot.” 

His voice is shaking a little, and as I imagined it, his hand is closed around his cock, almost lazily stroking it. 

“Come here.” 

He holds out the other hand, and as I take it, he pulls me flush against his body and kisses me hard. 

His skin against mine is hot, burning under my hands and I dig my nails into the curve of his hips, making him hiss. 

He breaks the kiss, wraps his arm around me and spins around, lowering me onto the bed in one swift motion. 

Letting go of me, he stands there for a moment, looking at me, his slanted eyes stormy and burning with desire. 

“Stop glaring and come here,” I say, stretching seductively. 

And with a dangerous growl he is over me, covering me with that beautiful body of his, making me arch into him. I want to feel every inch of his skin against mine, want to lick and bite and make him scream. 

I rake my nails down his spine and he yelps surprised. 

His eyes narrow and he slips one strong leg between my thighs, rubbing against me and making me moan loudly. 

“I can't wait to be inside you,” he murmurs as he bends down to kiss a trail down my shoulder. 

“Feel you squirm under me, hear you moan my name...” 

His voice is hushed and low, and he's talking against my skin as he slides down my body, kissing every spot he reaches. 

He licks a broad stripe over my nipples and then carefully takes one between his teeth, nibbling gently on it. 

The cry that leaves me is loud and unashamed - it feels absolutely incredible. My hands are fisted in the sheets, my eyes closed. I am relishing every touch, every kiss, every bite. 

He's sliding lower and I know where this is going but suddenly I can't wait any longer, I need to have him in me. 

Now. 

I tangle my hands in his hair and stop him just as his hands close around my hips and his nose brushes over my lower belly. He looks up, confusion clearly showing on his face. 

“Fuck me,” I whisper urgently, “fuck me now.” 

He chokes out a noise that sounds as if he is being strangled and quickly slides back up so he's face to face with me again. 

He dives in for another heated kiss, ravishing my mouth as if there's no tomorrow. 

Pulling back he leans over and rummages through the nightstand. 

With a triumphant “Ha” he produces a condom, tears it open and hastily rolls it over his cock before he settles between my spread legs again. 

I am aching for him, I feel the heat permeating from his skin, from his hard cock, and shamelessly arch up, searching for contact so desperately. 

“Please...” 

I am begging now, and I don’t care. 

A dangerous smile flickers over his angelic face as he closes his big hands around my thighs, spreading them wider. I feel the tip of his cock ghosting over my sex, teasing me. 

And then he stills. 

I whine loudly and search his eyes. 

“What are you waiting for? I need you. Now!” 

“Watch,” he demands roughly and without taking his eyes off of me, he pushes inside me. 

I want to throw my head back, want to close my eyes at the amazing feeling of his hard, pulsating cock slowly filling me but he shakes his head. Only a harsh, brief motion but I know without a doubt that he will stop if I look away. 

So I watch. 

His pupils are huge, his nostrils are flaring and his mouth is open. He is panting, sweat is running down the side of his face and the muscles in his neck are standing out like cords. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans as his grip on my hips tightens. 

He shifts his weight a little. He is kneeling now, his hands are pulling me closer. 

“Benedict...please...move...” I whimper, my own hands running restlessly over his arms, his legs, any part of him I can reach. 

As he finally starts moving – gently pulling back before thrusting forward – we both cry out in pleasure. 

Moans are tumbling from his swollen lips, and I can see that he's trying to hold back, giving me time to get accustomed to him, not wanting to hurt me – even if it kills him. 

His eyes are dark, sweat is glistening on his flushed face and I _see_ his heartbeat in the vein on his neck. His hair is a complete mess, his shoulders and arms are shaking in an attempt to control himself. 

God, what a beautiful creature he is. 

I reach out for him and push both hands into that wild hair, pulling him down into a bruising kiss. 

“Don't be gentle...fuck me hard and dirty...” I whisper against his lips. 

The sound he makes is raw and animalistic. It ripples through my entire body like a physical shock. He digs his hands into my hips and then he starts pounding into me, merciless and just on this side of pain. 

It is absolutely glorious. 

He doesn’t lose control completely but he's not far from it either. 

His eyes are still drilling into mine, but they soon glaze over and his entire body is starting to shake. 

We've been too riled up to take it slow and soon I feel my orgasm building, feel the prickling of it in my toes and my spine. 

Urging him on I meet every one of his hard thrusts, groaning loudly in ecstasy. It seems to turn him on even more and as I sling my legs around his small waist, pulling him even deeper, his eyes flutter closed.

“Close...so close...” he mutters and his movements are getting erratic, his chest is heaving. 

And then I am coming, intense like never before. I grasp for him blindly, my nails digging into his shoulders. I want to feel him everywhere as I ride the waves of my orgasm, clenching heavily around his moving dick. 

A long, rough cry falls from his lips and then he arches back, pressing almost impossibly deeper before he goes completely limp and collapses on me. 

He is gasping, close to hyperventilating, still thrusting weakly into me but all of the tension is gone, he's boneless and soft in my arms. 

Panting we lay there, limbs entangled, sweat cooling our heated bodies while our hearts slowly go back to a normal pace. 

Benedict's face is pressed against my neck and he's mouthing lazy kisses over my skin. He's buzzing contently while I card my hands through his tousled curls, relishing the feeling of him against me. 

Eventually he rolls off of me and flops down beside me, an arm thrown over his face, a happy grin tugging on the corners of his lips. 

Absently he removes the condom and tosses it carelessly on the floor before he glances over to me. 

“You're damn greedy, love,” he says hoarsely. 

“Takes one to know one, Cumberbatch,” I shoot back momentarily, winking cheekily at him. 

“Look at you,” he grins, propping his head up on one hand, “and here I was, thinking, you're the nice, perhaps a bit shy, one. Guess I was wrong...” 

Smiling I snuggle into the pillow, gazing lazily at him. 

“Oh, I am shy...sometimes...especially when meeting famous people.” 

He blushes adorably and leans in for a gentle kiss. 

“Guess we're both not exactly what we seem to be, huh?” 

“Looks like, yes.” 

He stretches and yawns, immediately looking guilty. 

“Sorry, was a long day.” 

I caress his cheek, feeling a rush of joy shooting  through my veins as he leans into the touch. 

“I'm sure it was. Get some sleep, I’ll see myself out,” I say calmly, although I don't really want to leave. 

He raises an eyebrow at me, the low light from outside casting shadows over his face. 

“You don’t want to stay?” 

“Only if you want me to...” 

“Yes.” 

Just one word but it makes my heart jump. He falls back on his back, opening his arms and motions for me to come closer. 

Crawling over, I snuggle against his warm body and he closes his arms around me. 

“I should warn you, I snore,” he mumbles in my hair, making me smile. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll kick you when you do.” 

He chuckles softly and kisses the top of my head. 

“Alright then.” 

It's still warm so neither of us needs the covers. 

Pleasantly buzzing in the afterglow, I listen to his deepening breath, his heart steadily beating against my ear. 

“Good night, Benedict,” I murmur quietly. 

“Night...” 

It's just a drawl, he's already half asleep. 

 *

I wake with a start, confused as to where I am and for a moment I lay there, staring at the windows, trying to figure out what woke me. 

The sun is barely up and a grey fog wavers over the balcony outside. 

Still early then. 

_Back to sleep_ , I think and roll over. 

Oh. 

Benedict's face is only inches from mine. 

He is still asleep, his long lashes creating fuzzy shadows on his cheekbones. His lips are parted and every now and then, he's snoring very quietly, which makes me chuckle. Watery sunbeams are painting a delicate pattern over his marble-like face and my fingers are twitching with the sudden urge to follow them. 

I lift my hand, hesitating for a moment before I carefully let one finger ghost over the shadows on his forehead. 

He mumbles something but doesn’t wake so I continue to follow the path of light over his face. I am tracing those incredible cheekbones, following the prominent curve of his eyebrows, sliding my thumb gently over his closed lids. 

His skin is soft and a little bit damp from the ever-present humidity, which also makes his hair look even more like a mop than yesterday. 

Sighing softly I let my hand slip into the dark curls. His hair is amazing, and, despite the heat already filling the air, cool and silky against my fingers. Carefully I comb through it, detangling the knots and smoothing it down a little. 

As my hand wanders towards his neck, Benedict shifts and tears me out of my admiration. 

“Hmmm...” he hums quietly, nudging encouragingly into my stiffened hand, “that's nice.” 

His lids flutter open, his eyes hazy and soft with sleep and a sweet smile playing over his lips. 

“Keep doing that...” he mutters, eyes closing again and he shifts closer, giving me better access. 

I stop moving for a moment, but the whispered “please?” gets me in motion again. 

Shifting over to fully face him, I push both hands into his hair, barely keeping a moan at the feeling at bay. I stroke his head, running my fingers through the curls, up and down, over his entire head, down to his neck and back. 

He is radiating sleepy satisfaction and as he starts to actually _purr_ , I can't keep the giggle inside me. 

“Soft kitty, warm kitty, sleepy Cumberkitty...” I murmur, more to myself, but he hears it and his deep laughter shakes the bed a bit. 

“Hush, you love it,” he utters, blinking his eyes open and looks at me with a smile. 

“Morning” 

I smile back, not taking my hands off of his head. 

“Good morning.” 

Silence falls as we keep looking at each other. 

It should have been awkward, it had always been with the one or two one-night-stands I have had. 

It is not. 

His face is sleepy yet open and soft, his expression almost vulnerable as he watches me calmly. 

And I have never felt so safe, so sheltered after a night with a stranger. 

“Did you sleep well?” he asks warmly after a few moments. 

“Hmm, yes, I did. And you?” 

He stretches and yawns.

“Like a baby. What time is it?” 

“I don’t know. Must still be early though, the sun's not really up yet,” I shrug, pointing at the window. 

That boyish smile spreads over his face, lightens up his entire face and makes the skin around his eyes crinkle. He reaches out and pulls me against his naked chest. 

“Perfect,” he says, lowering his voice to a seductive growl. 

“Is it now?” I ask innocently while wrapping my arm around his waist. 

“Oh yes,” he nods solemnly, “you see, I have the entire day to myself today. No appointments, nobody who wants anything from me today...wouldn’t it be a shame if I had to spend all those hours all alone by some pool or worse, hunted by some fans in a foreign country?” 

I shake me head, biting back a grin.

“Yes, that would definitely be a shame.” 

Rolling over, he sprawls his long limbs over me, pinning me to the mattress. 

“I had hoped you could show me a bit of your country...” 

“Oh did you?” I tease, moaning softly as he leans down and nibbles on my earlobe. 

“Mhhh, yeah... later perhaps. For now I have other ideas,” he whispers, pressing his growing erection against my leg. 

Before I can react, he leans down and kisses me. Not as feverish or desperate as last night, but deep and slow, leaving me breathless before he pulls back to look at me. 

“Fuck, you're gorgeous this morning, all tousled and flushed,” he rambles as he strokes my hair out of my face, peppering kisses over my lids, my nose and my cheeks. 

“And whose fault is that, hmm?” I tease him gently. 

“Hush,” he smiles and kisses me again, making me forget everything for a long blessed while. 

 

 


End file.
